The Moustache Dad Saga
by Liatris5113
Summary: Charlie Swan is a divorced, alcoholic, cop whose life is thrown into disarray when his daughter, Bella, moves back into Forks with him. When he begins to suspect that her new boyfriend, Edward Cullen is being abusive toward his daughter, he finds himself using unorthodox means to investigate. And what he finds could altogether destroy him and the daughter he loves.
1. Prologue

**I saw the mock movie poster on the internet and I just HAD to try and write Twilight from Charlie's point of view, if only because I think Billy Burke is awesome. XD**

**I'm currently high on caffeine and sugar right now so I'm not entirely sure whether I still retain the ability to write coherently. I'll try and rewrite this into something less eye-stabbingly-bad later on but right now, I just want to get the idea out of my head. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy!**

**BTW the mock movie poster does NOT belong to me. Nor does Twilight.  
**

**Prologue**

**No Superman**

Even though I had received Reneé's email more than two days ago, I had yet to make any changes to the house to make it more accommodating for the visitor I knew would come tomorrow.

Visitor. Yes, that's it, visitor.

Referring to Isabella as _visitor _instead of _my daughter _somehow lessened the wave of panic that was currently threatening to swamp me. In times like this, I had always allowed alcohol to be my lifeboat and today was no different. I either had to stay afloat or drown. But soon, very soon, I knew I had to learn how to swim without the aid of my lifeboat.

The slap of glass against hard wood jolted me out of my thoughts and yanked me back to reality. I glanced up from my beer bottle to see Tim glaring at me from behind the bar.

"Moping again, Charlie?" he grunted as he wiped the countertop with a wet dishrag. "You'd think that after finding out your daughter's moving back to Forks, you'd be a little bit happier,"

"I am happy," I mumbled. The stark contradiction between my words and my general disposition had Tim chuckling heartily at me until even I had to smile.

"Happy, eh?" the bartender mocked in a singsong voice. "Don't think you quite know what that word means, Carl,"

"Shut it," I raised the bottle to my lips and let the liquor pool inside my mouth. It burned all the way down. Although he was quiet—just the way I liked him, by the way—Tim continued to frown at me in such a manner that even I couldn't ignore him.

"You got something to say, say Tim,"

"I just don't think you'd like your Isabella to see you like this,"

"Can't break a two-year habit in a few days," I replied. To my eternal shame, I have to admit that I haven't even tried. I still kept showing up at Tim's bar, every night at eight like clockwork, even after the email from Reneé.

I knew that eventually I had to clean up my act, if Isabella really was going to live here with me at Forks. In the past, when she had vacationed here, she had made it very clear that she hated this place; living together with an alcoholic father wasn't going to make it any easier for her. I _had _to stop, if only for Isabella. I raised the near-empty bottle in the air as if toasting to an invisible partner.

"This'll be my last beer in this place," I announced before I drained it. "I'm going to start over a new leaf," I have to admit, the proclamation lost a bit of its power because my words were slurred.

Some of the other patrons clapped halfheartedly and Tim managed a grudging smile.

"Although I'll miss all the money you brought in this place, I have to say I'm happy for you,"

"Isabella needs a father who's not half-drunk all the time,"

"'Half-drunk all the time?'" Tim repeated in disbelief. "You're being cruel; I'd say that you're just all-drunk half the time,"

I snorted. "Thanks for the vote of confidence there, Timothy,"

"I mean it, Chief Swan. You're like a fucked-up Superman. When you're in your policeman suit, you all but have a red cape streaming down your shoulders," Timothy smiled wryly as he plucked the empty bottle from my hands. "It's Clark Kent that needs working on,"

"I 'ppreciate the compliment," Even as I got up to leave and began pulling bills out of my wallet, my chest couldn't help but swell with pride. I messed up many, many things in my life: my marriage with Reneé, my relationship with Isabella but one thing I never messed up was my job. And now, here was a chance to mend my broken bonds with Isabella. A chance I will make sure I will not ruin. Not with alcohol; my kryptonite, not with my haunted memories of Reneé, not with _anything. _

I may not be Superman, but I have long considered myself Fork's protector.

God willing I be my daughter's as well.

**Two pages on Word because it's only a prologue and I'm getting a stomachache from all the sweets I ate XD. I'll post the first chapter soon after this, perhaps tomorrow night. **** I hope that you'll forgive me for making Charlie too emo but c'mon: divorced dad, living alone at 30-40 years old, I think Charlie's bound to have issues. Plus, I'd really like to see how he works this out.**


	2. First Sight

_I was planning on posting this right after the bulk of my exams, as a celebration of my departure from Hell (Mother of all exaggerations XD) but I was so tired (I didn't sleep for two days straight during my exam week) that I crashed for eighteen hours straight, so I'm writing this now while watching S2 TWD (God, Daryl, why do you have to be so damn SEXY?!). Btw, thank you so much to all those who clicked the follow, favourite and review buttons; I didn't expect anyone to read this. You guys are so awesome; I wish I could give you all cookies and lansones (instead of eating 'em all myself). But I can't, I'm so sorry that all you awesome people get is a thank you. _

**1**

**First Sight**

I drove to the airport with the windows rolled down. I figured that the cold air would do much to clear my thoughts but apparently, I was wrong. The only thing opening the windows accomplished was make the passenger's seat wet and make wet circles on the sleeve of my suit.

Darn it and I had worn my best one too, although I was sure Isabella wouldn't notice but hey, it was the thought that counts, that the first thing that Isabella would see was a sign of welcome. There weren't many people getting off Isabella's plane and it was easy to spot her among the disembarking passengers. She was the one wearing an expression that said that its wearer was attending a funeral. I waved at her, trying my best not to let worry show on my face. My daughter looked like she had already decided that she hated Forks. Public displays of affection had never been my thing and I suddenly felt horribly awkward as I gave Isabella a brief, one-armed hug. It felt more like something Reneé should be doing instead of me.

"It's good to see you, Bells," I said, slapping a smile on my face and I felt inordinately proud of myself for remembering that she preferred the name Bella. "You haven't changed much," That was a lie, it felt as if I was talking to tall, lanky stranger who couldn't possibly be the same Isabella who loved pigtails so much she once told me she was never going to use another hair style for the rest of her life. That same hair hung limp around her face now, like a curtain that cut her off from the rest of the world. "How's Reneé?" At this, my heart did a painful little tap dance inside my chest and I tensed, waiting to see if Isabella would mention Phil, that apparently gorgeous baseball star. But Isabella only gave a nervous little smile and replied,

"Mom's fine. It's good to see you, too, Dad," she said the word 'Dad' as if she wasn't sure how to use it anymore.

"Those're the only things you brought?" I glanced at the small pile at her feet, wondering how all that could possibly be left all the remnants of her life from Phoenix.

"Couldn't buy winter clothes," she explained. I swallowed nervously, winter clothes were expensive, it wasn't exactly like I was rolling in dough after all the drinking I did. But I didn't want Isabella to hear that, "Well, that's no big deal, we'll just buy you new ones here,"

The nearest mall was in Port Angeles.

I waited until Isabella had her seatbelt on to spring my surprise. "I found a good car for you, really cheap," I told her.

"What kind of car?" her voice sounded more suspicious than pleasantly surprised. My heart immediately plummeted to the bottom of the car. I thought she'd just be happy to get a car, but I suppose that sports cars were all the rage these days.

"Well, it's a truck actually, a Chevy," Not exactly a Ferrari but it ran, that ought to count, right?

"Where did you find it?" Isabella's tone suggested that she was probably thinking I'd answer, "The street,"

"Do you remember Billy Black at La Push?" Knowing she'd say no; all the times that she went here during the summer, she made it very clear that she wanted to forget anything to do with Forks.

She didn't disappoint. "No,"

"He used to go fishing with us in the summer," I encouraged. My stomach did a guilty little twist; I had forgotten that she hated going fishing with us.

When she didn't answer I decided to just keep talking to keep the silence from getting too awkward. "He's in a wheelchair now so he can't drive anymore, and he offered to sell me his truck cheap,"

"What year is it?"

Dammit, I was hoping she wouldn't ask that.

"Well, Billy's done a lot of work on the engine—it's only a few years old. Really."

Her expression turned skeptical, then into an interesting mixture of disgust and one that 'do you think I'm an idiot, Charlie?'

"When did he buy it?" Dammit, Bells, I'm sorry I couldn't get you the Ferrari you wanted.

"He bought it in 1984, I think,"

"Did he buy it new?" By now, I was starting to think that maybe this wasn't such a good idea, I had half a mind to tell her that I'll buy her a new car, maybe not a Ferrari but at least something better than the car she already hates before she even saw. Come to think of it, that sounds a lot like how she felt about Forks. But instead, I swallowed my apprehension and admitted my guilt,

"Well, no. I think it was new in the early sixties — or late fifties at the earliest,"

"Ch—Dad," My heart did a little pleat at this, she could barely even call me 'Dad' anymore, but that wasn't her fault.

I bet that she called Baseball Star Phil 'Dad' back in Phoenix, when he was wrapped around _my wife _treating Isabella like she was _his kid. _My grip on the steering wheel tightened but Isabella didn't seem to notice and I noticed that she was still speaking, something about her not being able to afford a mechanic and I couldn't help but think of Jacob, Billy's son. Didn't Billy mention something about him enjoying playing with cars?

I was on the verge of saying this when I noticed that Isabella was scowling as if she's never going to take another suggestion from me for the rest of her life. I fell silent but when she asked, "How cheap is cheap?" The heart that was currently resting on the bottom of my seat began to rise, if a little bit cautiously.

"Well, honey, I kind of already bought it for you. As a homecoming gift," Her tight expression loosened just a little bit, at least she didn't look as if she wanted to bite my face off anymore. It didn't seem like a very good omen that I had to bribe my daughter with a car for her to stop hating me.

"You didn't need to do that, Dad. I was going to buy myself a car,"

"I don't mind. I want you to be happy here," I forced on a smile that felt like it was cracking at the edges. I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye, gauging her reaction but she just stared straight ahead with no expression whatsoever as she said, "That's really nice, Dad. Thanks. I really appreciate it," As if she didn't appreciate at all.

"Well, now, you're welcome," The smile wavered on my face and died.

We lapsed into an uncomfortable silence where Isabella just stared—excuse me, _glared—_out the window. I could feel my stomach doing uneasy flips, as I studied this stranger on the passenger's seat. Where was my Isabella? The one who smiled like she had the sun living inside her? Who bounced around as if the wind itself carried her an extra few inches above the ground?

This dark-haired person sitting beside me certainly didn't seem to be the little girl I knew.

Eventually, we made it back to the house and I couldn't help but notice how she gave it a critical once-over and then turn away, as if it didn't meet the criteria she had made up inside her head.

By now, my stomach was twisting so painfully that I would have killed to get some pain relievers.

Should I have gotten some decorators? At the very least, should I have asked Billy and Tim to come over and apply a fresh coat of paint on the house last weekend?

Should I have asked Sue to help me spruce up the garden? Isn't a nice garden what most girls want? I was such a confirmed bachelor I didn't even know anymore.

Her face brightened though, when she saw the truck. "Wow, Dad, I love it! Thanks!" She managed to look sincere enough that I convinced myself she was.

"I'm glad you like it," I replied, though in my mind I felt the gift inadequate for a homecoming. I helped Isabella put her bags in her old room.

She gave her room a cursory glance though I could see her eyes zeroing in on the telephone which Reneé had insisted I install. It looked like she preferred her mother over me so I left her inside her room.

I was barely out of her door when I heard her crying; I froze. Should I go to her? Should I do something fatherly, maybe put my arms around her and tell her everything was going to be all right?

Why was she even crying? If Isabella was crying because she missed Reneé and Phoenix then why did she come here in the first place? Was she crying because she missed her friends? A boyfriend, maybe?

It frightened me to find out how little I knew of my own daughter. Her 'homecoming' wasn't as good as I had imagined; for one thing, there was a lot less crying and leaping into one another's arms and a lot more scowling into the distance.

Isabella seemed _determined _to hate Forks. What was I supposed to do about it? _Can _I do something about? Was that a teenager thing? Weren't teenagers nowadays supposed to be sullen and spend all their days with those white ear-bud-things stuffed inside their ears?

Downstairs, I could hear alcohol singing its sweet siren call, begging me to let her take my problems away. How easy would it be—two, three bottles max—to just drink and allow the siren to sweep me off my feet?

Sweat started to form on my forehead, didn't I promise myself that I would stop drinking?

"C'mon Charlie, you promised yourself you would stop this as soon as Isabella moved in," I grunted.

But a voice stronger and more persuasive than my own began to whisper inside my head, sweet and kind and gentle as Isabella's voice hadn't been, _Go ahead, stop drinking; you promised after all. You promised to stop drinking…for __**what? **__A daughter who doesn't even appreciate what you're doing for her! _The siren's laugh was derisive as her phantom figure danced in front of me.

"She can't appreciate because she doesn't know and that's the _point_," I snarled at her. But the siren continued only to laugh at me, as if my words were something hilarious.

"She can't appreciate _anything!_" she cackled. "So what's the point in doing anything for her?" The woman stopped dancing and moved closer to me, "But _I _can appreciate you, Charlie. I always have,"

She danced away again, her figure dispersing like smoke before my eyes. Sweat began to pool at my back, my armpits. I promised myself that I wouldn't do this anymore I _promised. _

But like the sailor of some doomed ship, I found myself walking dizzily to the kitchen and getting out a bottle from the fridge.

Even as my mind screamed _no, _I was opening the bottle and letting its contents pool in my mouth. Even as I told myself how Tim would have laughed at me and called me a shitty Clark Kent, I am thinking about how much Isabella had changed. She was no longer a little girl who I could carry in my arms and tell her I loved her. She was someone else, if anything she was the person whose name she insisted I use whenever I speak to her.

_Bella. _It seemed to me that Isabella and Bella were two very different things. And I wasn't sure who I preferred or whose fault was that in the first place.

Upstairs, as I drowned myself in drink once again, I could hear this _Bella _drown herself in tears.

_BAH! Watching the last parts of season 2 of The Walking Dead has become a chore! Tell me, other than jumping Daryl and ravaging him senseless, have you people ever felt the need to do something to someone else? Someone…oh, I don't know, like Lori. Jump her. Hit her. Hard. In the face. With a mallet. Repeatedly. And then, possibly throw her to the walkers. _

_So instead of watching TWD, I ended up watching Kundun (under the recommendation of my history professor) and now I'm crying my eyes out. Those poor people in Tibet…that poor Dalai Lama, I just want to give him a hug. Why did I have to watch that WHY?! _


	3. Open Case

**2**

**Open Case**

I have no idea how else to say this, but the second day of Bella's stay in Forks was a mixed bag. The good part was that I did not hear my daughter crying herself to sleep last night, while the bad part was that the forest rangers were once again reporting an alarming dip in the animals' population in the forest. Because crime rarely happens in Forks (crime worth looking into anyway, I mean, we're not going to dip so low that we send out detectives to find out who ate the last cookie in your cookie jar) we usually get roped into other jobs, mostly working hand in hand with firemen and rangers.

Except that some of them are, shall we say, a little _too _enthusiastic.

I swear, I see these rangers more often than most of the other cops on the force.

One particular man, an ex-truck driver named Travis, turned up so often that I frequently had to resist the urge to ask whether he was just using the whole the animals-are-in-danger thing because he didn't have a permanent residence in Forks and he wanted to use the precinct as a camp site.

Cruel I know, but mind you, the guy smelled and looked bad enough that the whole homeless thing was turning out to be a very real option.

Must be a hippie thing.

"I'm telling you, Charlie—"

"That's _Chief Swan_," I grunted. The problem with living in a small town was that everyone knew each other so well that titles have become obsolete. Travis nodded, barely registering my words.

"The mountain lion and bear population have reached an all-time low in the past fifty years," Though Travis looked and smelled like the guy who wears aluminum hats and screams about vampire bunnies from Mars, he was never one to exaggerate; so when he said _all-time low, _my back automatically straightened and I was looking at him with a newfound concentration.

"What do you think's causing all this? Climate change—"

Travis snorted. Yep, bringing that up was a bad idea. You know how most people say, "The only permanent thing is change."?

Yeah, well, here's another permanent thing: weather in Forks. I'm pretty sure whatever gilled mountain lions and bears live up in our mountains are in no danger of breathing air just yet.

I tried again, mostly because Travis was looking at me like a school teacher whose favorite student got an answer wrong.

"So, what do you think? Something's killing off their food supply?"

Travis shook his head. Aw, no A+ for me. "Look, we've checked, there's still plenty of small wildlife in the forest. It's the _big ones _that are disappearing."

I raised an eyebrow. "You said that mountain lion and bear population is dwindling. But now, you're making it sound like that's not the only thing going down."

"Well, the deer and elk population is getting pretty low too." the man spoke as if I should pick up a valuable clue from this.

"This isn't Twenty Questions, Travis, either tell me the whole thing or leave."

The ranger rolled his eyes heavenward, like a teenager in the midst of overwhelming lameness. Or rather, like Bella in the midst of pretty much everything in Forks.

"Bears and mountain lions have _pelts_, Charlie. Bucks have _antlers_."

Oh.

"You think someone's hunting them." I was pleased that my voice remained careful and controlled, but in my mind, I was already ticking off the names of the possible poachers.

In a town where everyone knows everyone arresting a person for hunting would simply be painful, not to mention embarrassing.

"Not just anyone." Travis leaned closer until I could smell the whiskey on his breath. I wondered whether he could smell the same on mine.

"The forest's population has been seeing erratic changes ever since _they _moved in."

I stiffened. "Oh _God_, Travis not this again!" I blurted out. "The Cullens are respectable folk, I'm telling you they'd be the last ones to hunt out of season!"

"You're letting your biases get in the way of your thinking," the ranger accused.

I glared, stung by the remark. It was true; almost everyone in Forks knew how I championed Carlisle Cullen and his family. I'll have to admit that I sometimes sound like I'm in love with him, but it simply sickens me how such a selfless man could be trapped in a whirlpool of fishwife gossip.

Maybe because I had been there once, when Reneé fled from Forks and left me to deal with the backlash of the rumormongers; everything from getting cuckolded by my ex-wife's new beau to impotency.

"And _you're _letting _your biases _get in the way of your thinking," I snapped back.

"Get in the way," he squawked. "I'm looking at cold hard facts, man! Everything was fine until they came along!"

_Everything was fine until they came along: _the refrain of every small, backwater town whenever a new settler comes in.

I wanted to point this out, but the determined look on Travis's face said that nothing I could possibly say could change what he thought of the Cullens.

Mind you, his face also said, "Knock my front teeth out, Charlie, please."

I heaved a long-suffering sigh. "Look, we'll look into it."

"That's what you said last time!"

"And we _did_. We found nothing, nada, zip. No trace of gigantic wolves running around the place." I forced on a smile. "Do you want us to look for vampire bunnies from Mars as well?"

"What the hell is that—" Fury seemed to rob him of his words and Travis's face reddened to the point that he resembled an overripe tomato.

The man stormed off, hiking boots clomping childishly on the concrete.

Slammed the door on his way out, too, the bastard.

The door opened not a minute later.

"Well, Charlie, you sure as hell made someone else's week."

I didn't need to look up to know who was disturbing my already very fine morning.

"Corrine," I said by way of greeting.

"Well, aren't we happy today?" my second visitor set down a steaming cup of coffee on my table. "Guess what I brought you to make you even happier?"

"Caffeinated dishwater from the dispenser?"

"Yep."

"You know me so well."

Corrine Walters was a close friend of mine and a fellow cop that's been on the job almost as long as I have. She's seen her fair share of kitties stuck in trees, imaginary giant wolves and paranoid rangers over the years, basically all the action we're ever going to get.

And she's handled it with far more grace than I do myself.

"Let me guess, Cullens' good name getting dragged through the mud again?" she asked, nudging the cup toward me.

"How'd you know?"

"You have that look about you."

"What look?"

"Like you've just been sodomized." The woman threw her head back and laughed, sending her golden hair askew.

I didn't even bother replying, but instead opted to sip my coffee in what I thought was a refined and uncaring manner. Unfazed by my reaction, Corrine drew a set of car keys from her pocket.

"So, are you ready?" she asked excitedly.

"Ready for what?" I asked sourly.

"A trip to the dentist. To search the forest for Travis' poachers, duh!"

I rolled my eyes. "That might or might not be imaginary," I pointed out.

"Oh, c'mon Charlie, who _cares_? If I have to stay a minute longer in this stagnant pit you call a precinct, I'll go mad and commit an atrocious quadruple just to give you guys something to do."

Without even bothering to reply, the woman snatched my cup out of my hands, drank it in one gulp, crushed the Styrofoam cup and threw it at the small plastic trash can.

She overshot the thing by a few inches but by that time, she was already pulling on her coat and smiling at me.

"Hey, look on the bright side, _Chief Swan. _We might even get to see those vampire bunnies from Mars, if we're lucky."


	4. Hello, Siren

**First off, to the people who don't like OCs, so sorry that I introduced you to a few, had to since we know next to **_**nothing **_**about Charlie's life other than he likes TV and fishing.**

**That's about it.**

**If you've got complaints or suggestions, feel free to PM or review it. **

**Hello, Siren**

"This is stupid."

"Shut up."

"I could be back at the station right now, doing something _productive._ Honestly though, do you seriously think that we'll find something or are you just looking for a way to get out of work?" Angry now that I let myself get dragged into this mess I stopped dead in my tracks and watched as Corrine crept across the damp undergrowth of the forest like some sort of oversized squirrel.

She certainly looked the part of someone who was tracking something, her arms held tight against her sides, her shoes barely even making a sound as they connected with the many fallen twigs. She turned to me with a cheeky grin. "Shut up, Chief, you're going to scare away vampire bunnies."

I rolled my eyes at her, now fully regretting ever making that stupid comment inside the station.

"Honestly, though, Corrine, what are we _here _for?" I said, now feeling thoroughly exasperated.

"Vampire bunnies."

I scowled at her. "I forgot my stakes at the station wait here while I drive back for them and never return," I retorted. If it wasn't some hippy pointing fingers at the Cullens, it's Corrine, hunting for imaginary bloodsucking rodents; why can't I ever work with someone normal?

"Don't worry about it, we'll just drag out there little bodies from their warrens and expose them to sunlight to kill them, no stakes needed," she replied. Corrine stood up and brushed dirt and pine needles from her pants.

"Call me crazy but participating in bunny genocide doesn't really appeal to me, I'm going back to the station," I snapped. Both of us knew, however, that I was just spewing hot air. Corrine wasn't someone to drag me on an Easter bunny hunt just for the hell of it—at least not during working hours—she came here with an agenda and we both knew it.

My bad luck that she decided to play the idiotic version of Twenty Questions today.

My partner took a deep breath, as if to steady herself and I could see her cheery façade drop off her as if it was an actual mask that she could simply take off.

"You heard what Travis said, there's been an alarming dip in the population of the animals here."

"He always says that," I replied but Corrine was already shaking her head at me, her arms crossed over her chest. She regarded me with thoughtful blue eyes.

"Travis is right, you know. But there's another thing about this month's Animal Planet emergency," she said.

"Which is?"

"There's a reason why I dragged you out here, you know." Despite having said that, however, the silly woman refused to divulge the world-shattering reason of _why _she dragged me in the middle of Forks forest.

"Corrine, tell me now or so help me God, I really will leave you here in the middle of the forest."

"Take a chill pill, Chief, follow me." So saying she spun on her heel and walked away, not even bothering to glance back to see if I followed. Cursing her under my breath, I followed, noting how noisy we were now, when just a few minutes ago, we were sneaking around on the undergrowth like wannabe ninjas.

It took about thirty minutes of brisk walking before we got to the very heart of the forest, by that time I was already breathing heavily and my uniform was plastered to my back with sweat.

I placed my hand on the trunk of a tree for assistance, huffing and puffing worse than the big bad wolf.

Wow, I was out of shape.

"Weakling," Corrine muttered. She didn't even have the decency to look winded.

"Well, what do you make of it?" she asked me. But because I was looking bent over due to exhaustion, I was unable to see what she was referring to.

"What—_pant_—do I make—_pant_—of what?"

"Stop examining your shoes and look up," she ordered. I did not like that tone she was taking with me. I removed my hand from the trunk and I let out a yelp when I realized my hand came away sticky with some sort of tree sap.

But when I turned my hand so that my palm faced me, I realized that it was wet with blood.

"What the hell?" I yelled in surprise. The blood wasn't new, it had already congealed, but it wasn't dry either.

"All right, Corrine, what is this about?" I demanded but Corrine was staring straight ahead. Following her gaze, I beheld a brutal scene.

Several large elk lay dead in the clearing; their spindly legs sprawled out unnaturally under their bodies. There were about three of them, piled one on top of the other as if someone was planning on making a bonfire out of their bodies.

"Jesus," I whispered, stunned. "What happened here, Corrine?" Though we were the only ones in the clearing, I couldn't help but keep my voice low. There was something about this silence in the forest, with these dead creatures in front of us that seemed oddly appropriate, and I didn't want to break it.

"You tell me, Chief," Corrine replied, also keeping her voice down. "Some ranger found it this morning."

"This can't have been a bear or a predator, look at their bodies, hardly been chewed on." I was stating the obvious, I knew, but somehow saying these words out loud seemed to lend credence to them. If it had been a bear or a mountain lion, those bodies would have been mauled, no way a predator would pass up free food. But there were barely any scratches on these elks, at least on the outside. Some of their bones looked like they've been violently broken, but of course, I wasn't all that sure. Even the scavengers, the foxes and the vultures stayed away from the carcasses.

I moved closer to examine them. That was when the smell hit me. The scent of rotting corpses had never smelled like roses but this one was particularly bad, kind of like the unholy offspring of skunk fart and rat vomit. I staggered backward, groaning, my stomach threatening to heave up my breakfast.

"Oh, sorry about that, should have told you to hold your breath," Corrine said, smiling. _Smiling, _for god's sake, she _wanted _me to smell that!

"I'll get you back for this," I grumbled, breathing through my mouth. I moved closer again and saw something that escaped my notice the first time.

"Christ." I forced out the word through gritted teeth. The manes of the great creatures were stained with blood, and on each of their long necks were crescent-shaped wounds, dotted with blood** [1]**. I examined the corpses carefully and they were the only external injuries that I could see.

"Well, Chief, what do you make of it?" Corrine asked as I straightened up.

"To be honest, I don't know," I replied truthfully. "This wasn't done by a predator, that's for sure." At least not of the animal variety.

"So a human then? One of those cult things that the kids are into these days?"

"There are none of that in Forks," I said defensively. But I had to admit, it seemed a plausible scenario. Grudgingly, I went along with her theory, "Seems a bit odd though, with that kind of thing you'd expect a little more…I don't know ceremony? Black cats and hooded figures and statues of Baba Yaga?"

"Maybe they did the ceremony in some other place and dumped the body here, the sick weirdos," Corrine surmised, venom dripping from her voice. "Those poor little elks…"

"Could be, maybe they drugged the things and dragged them some other place. It's the only explanation I can come up with right now," I agreed.

Never mind the glaring inconsistency of how they could move three two-hundred pound elks on uneven terrain.

Corrine was about to speak when we heard a new voice speak.

"We-ell! I was just complaining about how those things tasted absolutely _awful_ and _you guys _came along," the voice purred. I was struck by the sweet, melodious tone of it; it was the sort of voice that led people to believe in that they heard angels speak to them. But angel or no, hearing the voice of a person in the middle of the forest had my guard up and before I even registered my own movements, my gun was out of holster, the safety was off and I had whirled around to face the speaker.

I nearly dropped my gun when I saw her.

It was her.

The Siren.

The one who had appeared to me on Bella's first night, the one who whispered in my ear every my mind turns to drink.

She was my nightmare given form. I don't know how I knew it, but somehow, I knew.

The woman even _looked _like the part of a nightmare. She was tall, perhaps 5'5" with the kind of lithe, athletic body you see in gymnasts or ballet dancers.

She had the finely-chiseled cheekbones of an Aryan princess and skin so pale that it looked like it was made of porcelain. What was most striking, though, was her hair. Wild, tangled, unkempt but beautiful all the same, her violently orange hair brought to mind forest fires.

Had Leonardo Da Vinci seen this woman in his lifetime, he would have fallen to his knees and painted nothing but her until he died.

She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.

And it terrified me.

She was beautiful in the way a tiger stalking a deer was beautiful, when it was frozen in that eternity just before it struck and closed its jaws around its prey

Though my mouth felt dry, I managed to speak. "Who are you?" I said shakily.

Her eyes snapped to me and a shiver ran down my spine when her eyes met mine. They were blood-red.

"And here I thought that I was going to have to hunt more of those things for breakfast but you guys saved me the trouble!" she squealed in happiness.

"So _you're _the one who killed these things?" Corrine demanded, regaining her senses.

"Why, yes, I am. They tasted horrible by the way, bleh!" the orange-haired woman stuck out her tongue to indicate distaste.

I began to feel lightheaded.

"You _ate _them?" I asked. The Siren giggled at my question, as if I was a particularly naughty child.

"Of course not, sweetie," she purred. Her footfalls made no sound as she walked closer to us.

"DON'T come any closer!" Corrine yelled, aiming her gun at the Siren, who ignored the police woman.

"I didn't eat them," she said, still addressing me. "I drank their blood."

And she struck.


	5. Attack

**I suck at writing fight scenes. And one thing I realized while writing this, how in God's name am I supposed to have Charlie and Corrine take down a vampire when they've got no bloody weaknesses?! **

**Ah, well, should've thought of that before…**

**3**

**Attack**

The Siren slammed into Corrine with enough force to send the both of them tumbling to the ground. I could do nothing but watch in horror as two women fought with growls and shrieks erupting from both of them.

It was obvious that, as tough as Corrine was, she was no match for the Siren, whose spirit was as fiery as her hair. The Siren straddled Corrine and it was all she could do to hold the Siren off while her adversary threw mock punches at her. Every once in a while, the redhead threw back her head and laughed, sounding like an angel while looking like a demon.

_She was playing with us. _I realized numbly. Then, belatedly, I remembered the gun in my hand, I aimed for the Siren. "Freeze or I'll shoot!" I yelled and for the first time in my life, I could feel my fingers trembling as they gripped the familiar weapon. But I think that all three of us knew that what I said was an empty threat, I could not shoot because I might hit the wrong woman. Corrine realized what I was waiting for and she shoved the other woman away with all her strength. The redhead's body snapped back, away from Corrine's, giving my partner just enough space to pull her arm back and throw a punch at her enemy's neck.

With any luck, the blow would stun her and allow me to shoot at the lunatic.

A horrible cracking sound.

Corrine screamed. The redhead threw her head back and laughed hysterically. Her laughter echoed across the forest in a way that I thought only existed in scary movies.

That was too much for me; now that their bodies were not tangled into one another, I was pretty confident that I could hit the redhead without fear of hurting Corrine. The recoil of my gun shook my hand as I fired three times as fast as my weapon would allow.

All three bullets hit her torso. And then a strange thing happened.

The redhead pitched backward and then her body _flew _away from Corrine, landing a few meters away from my partner in an unnatural sprawl.

One, two, three breaths passed. She did not move again.

Corrine wasted no time scrambling her feet and rushing to my side, I noticed how she cradled her left hand to her chest.

"What the hell was that Charlie?" she snarled at me. As she spoke, she positioned herself a little behind me, while trying to draw a second gun from her belt with her right hand.

"Damned if I know," I replied, not taking my eyes off the 'corpse'.

Hell, you only see that crap in movies. That was an exaggerated reaction to the bullets, even if they did do the loony harm, she would not have flown back like that. What's more, I could see no blood pooling below the redhead's body.

If I had to guess, I'd say that she was wearing body armor of some kind, as crazy as if may sound. That was the only explanation I could come up with right now.

My finger tightened on the trigger and I could feel cold sweat trickling down my back.

"You're not dead," I muttered under my breath. "You're fooling no one."

As if my words were a wizard's incantation for bringing the 'dead' back to life, the Siren rose. Not gingerly, like she would have if she was favoring the spot where the bullets hit or she was injured. She rose slowly, gracefully, with her arms spread out like some goddamn monster rising out of its coffin from one of those stupid scary movies. Though her shirt showed holes where the bullets have ripped through them, the exposed skin beneath them was smooth and unmarred.

My heart pounded wildly inside my chest, as if it was threatening to burst free from my ribcage. No body armor then.

When her eyes fluttered open, I saw once again, the blood-red irises and a small part of my mind started screaming hysterically. No human ever had those eyes, of that I'm sure. They promised nothing but death and blood. As she rose, a beam of sunlight hit her face and, to my astonishment, she _glistened. _Not the way sweat would cause skin to glisten, but the way a diamond would glisten when a strong light is turned upon it, magnifying the brilliance of the light by a thousand times. It looked like she had a million diamonds embedded in her skin.

No scratch that, not diamonds, _disco balls. _

What the hell?

That was when she lifted her eyes to look at me. A shiver shot through my spine like an electric current. The Siren smiled, showing all of her teeth. Unnaturally pointed canines; dear Lord, did she have them filed down?

"Now, that wasn't very nice now, was it?" she pouted at me.

"Attacking me wasn't very nice either," Corrine snapped and then called her something that would have made a gangster blush.

The Siren giggled in an oddly childlike manner. "You're rude, I don't like you."

"News flash, _bitch_, we don't like you either," Corrine retorted. The Siren's smile widened, this time with no humor. Her smile frightened me in a way that a thousand death threats would not have.

_I'm going toooooo kill yooooouuuuu…_Her mocking lips seemed to say in a singsong voice.

That was when I saw the redhead for what she truly was.

Not a Siren.

Not a portable disco ball.

A _monster. _A goddamned lunatic who liked messing with people's heads and hunting down elk and claiming that she drank their blood.

"You're under arrest for attacking a police officer." I raised my gun so that it was aimed directly at the crazy's chest. Poor Corrine was trying to do the same with only one hand.

A pout was her only reply.

"You bore me," she whined at me.

"So sorry to disappoint."

"I don't like you anymore," she decided. "I think I'll just eat you." She lunged again, but this time, I was ready for it, I dove to my left so that she could not take me down the way she did Corrine. Imagine my surprise when I felt her body collide with mine. Her skin was cold as ice.

We tumbled to the ground, next to the heap of elks. My gun flew from my hand.

"Charlie!" Corrine screamed. The lunatic sat up, straddling my hips, her lips pulled back to reveal her filed-down canines.

_Was she actually going to _bite _me?_

I never had the chance to know, for in the next second, the redhead's weight was off me. Corrine had tackled her straight into the heap of dead elks.

"Oh no you don't!" I heard my partner shriek.

I scrambled to my feet, preparing to join the fray when I realized that the redhead was making no attempts to fight Corrine back, who pummeled her back ineffectually.

The redhead, taking no notice of Corrine's assault, choked and heaved as if she was trying to vomit out a giant furball.

The stench of the dead elks, she was reacting to the stench of the dead elks. It was Corrine and mine's reaction multiplied by a thousandfold. A part of me wondered whether or not she was still playacting but my body was already moving. Taking hold of the back of her head, I shoved her head nearer the pile of rotting carcasses.

I noticed how her skin didn't seem to give way under the pressure of my fingers; in fact, they were as unyielding as stone. When her nose came nearer the pile, she shrieked in a tone so high-pitched it might have broken glass. And suddenly, she was gone.

One second, I had a firm grip on her and the next, the only thing that I had in my palm were a few strands of orange hair.

I looked around wildly, hoping, hoping, for a sign of the crazy woman. But the only crazy woman I saw was Corrine, who stared back at me with her jaw open.

There was only us, in the middle of the forest, with a bunch of dead elk to keep us company.

**For God's sake, let's just **_**pretend **_**that Ms. Meyer's vampires **_**can **_**be caught off guard. (i.e. If you push at them while they're off guard or surprised, they'll react to it like a regular person) because that's the only way I can think of to make them a little less perfect while staying true to the vampire thing, yech.**

**In gamer lingo, I'd say they're O-freaking-P. **

**I'm going to put up a bunch of weaknesses in the following chapters because I hate unbeatable/ invulnerable creatures. **


	6. Link

So…before we get on with the story, I've got a few things to ramble about first. Feel free to skip this part since it's kinda long (it's a page long on Word). *cracks knuckles* All right, first off, a general thank you to all of you kind reviewers, followers and favoriters (is that even a word). When I first wrote this story, I didn't think anyone would read it and it is a genuine pleasure to read your reviews after a long day. Thank you so much! Now, about reviews, normally, a quick thank you to the reviewers will suffice but some of these require answering and answer them I shall (albeit in a largely unprofessional manner). Here we go:

**MyZebraWillEatYou: **HA! Thanks so much! I forgot about the fire thing, thanks for reminding me! I really need to do some research into Twilight. XD

**Paul P.S. Sullivan****: **The plastic explosives thing was genius, I've already thought about overwhelming their sense but I focused more on the sense of smell (elks and Victoria's retching in the last chapter) rather than the sense of hearing and sight. Brilliant suggestions though, feedback from a mic or something _definitely _help whoever's trying to kill them. I'm a bit reluctant on using guns and explosives though, since I'm not comfortable about writing stuff like that unless I've actually experience them myself and since either participating in a gun-shooting class or joining a terrorist group will either end with a broke or jailed me, I'll just have to wing it by doing research on recoil and stuff Youtube+Google style. Yes, I have been planning on doing the research into Meyer's books for quite some time but I've always managed to skirt around the whole thing every time I think about it. Seriously though, your ideas=GENIUS.

**Panda1222: **I'll admit that I just entered a random number on the beer thing because I have no idea how much it takes for a person to get drunk, mostly because when someone starts drinking in front of me, I leave the room. Poorly researched on my part *shrugs* sorry about that. Yes, I'm betraying canon details I know. About the phantom-thing, yep, it's a bit of a shot in the dark and people don't usually do that. But others _do _give physical attributes to pieces of them (either a muse or an obsession etc.) Others imagine whole epic battles about their struggles, it's a concept I've been interested in and something I haven't tested so bear with me if you hate it.

**Oricke: **I'll look for the fanfic you're referring to and consider it, though I have to ask, is there a particular story you want me to tell? Or is there a general Twilight/Walking Dead Plot you have in your head and you want told?

**Hey, anyone willing to Beta-read this thing and the next chapters? I have a horror of editing my own work so a Beta reader would be awesome. PM or review if interested.**

*claps hands* All done! Thanks for reading if you did! On with the story!

**Chapter 5**

**Link**

Corrine was the first one to recover her wits. Swearing at the top of her lungs she dashed around the clearing, presumably with the intention of finding the redhead and dragging her back to the station with us.

I noticed that she was trying hard to hide a limp in her right leg and that she was still holding her left hand to her chest. Neither of these apparent injuries seemed to deter her as she energetically cursed and raced around the clearing looking for a sign of the crazy redhead.

"You're hurt," I called out to her. "Maybe we should go back to the station and see it treated?" Even as I spoke, I knew it was meaningless. Corrine would keep going either until she found our attacker or until she collapsed from exhaustion. Based on the way my partner ran about the clearing with complete disregard for both her health and police procedure, the latter was a lot likelier than the former.

"Dammit!" Corrine screeched and kicked at the mound of dead elk with her good foot. The pile trembled at the force of her kick, then, the corpses at the top of the pile tumbled to the ground and hit Corrine's injured left foot. She jumped away from the elks and howled her misery while I bit the inside of my cheek, trying hard not to laugh. Unfortunately, my expression must have given something away.

"Yeah, go ahead and _laugh, _Charlie," she spat at me. "This is absolutely _hilarious._" I knew that she wasn't exactly angry at me; she acted like this whenever she feels someone bested her at something, like a child who has been forced to go to sleep before her allotted bedtime. I knew that I should put a stop to her antics; that someday her childish behavior could get us in trouble, but I never really had the guts to Corrine because I liked intestines where they are.

"We're not going to find her you know," I said with what I thought was an infinite amount of patience.

"And how do you know that?" she shot back, finally limping back to me.

I paused. How _did _I know that? Was it the way she moved, like nothing on earth could ever touch or harm her? It seemed very much to me that if the crazy redhead didn't want to be found, she _wasn't _going to be found.

"Jesus, Corrine, did you see the way she _moved_?" I muttered shaking my head. "Like the Flash on crack." I examined her injuries. I'm not a doctor and my first-aid skills are limited to putting a band-aid on top of whatever hurt you have and telling you that 'the magical band-aid makes the pain go away' but it looked to me like Corrine had her hand broken.

"What did you _do _to your fist, woman?" I demanded, taking her hand in both of mine. Corrine was obviously struggling not to cringe.

"I punched that woman, what else?"

"What and she has stone for skin **[1]**? _That's _how you broke your hand?" I growled at her.

"Yes, you big dope!" she cried, snatching her hand back and biting off a shriek of pain as she did so. "My God, Charlie, I'm not kidding when I say that her neck really was like concrete." Corrine suppressed a shiver. "And she was _cold, _Charlie. Really cold. When she was on me like that, it was like I was caked in ice,"

I swallowed. I can't pretend that I didn't feel the chill that shot through me when her body collided with mine. And it was _definitely _not because some hot woman was straddling me with every intention of breaking my neck. Some guys might be into that, but I'm not. She really _was _as cold as ice.

"Seriously, Charlie, what drug was she on?" Corrine demanded as if I knew the answer. She probably wasn't going to accept 'probably every single one known to man' for an answer so instead I said.

"Maybe we should have your injuries looked at, your hands and leg is going to give you a bad month if we don't take 'em to the hospital soon. And with all this snow piling up." I gestured carelessly to the clearing. Snow was beginning to fall again, creating a thin blanket of white down on the forest floor. The dead elk's coats were now speckled with snowflakes. Briefly, I wondered if I had remembered to put snow chains on Isabella's car. I must have, I'm sure of it.

Corrine immediately began protesting, as I expected her to.

"We can still track her! Footprints in the forest! C'mon, Chief, if we hurry, we can follow her before the snow erases the footprints!"

"And what're we going to do after that?" I snapped, feeling my patience beginning to strain. "You saw what happened there, we got our asses handed to us on a silver platter. Even if we did find her, Corrine, we'd need a freaking _squad _to take her down."

And why exactly we'd need a squad to take down one crazy woman is beyond me. Her strength, her speed felt supernatural (yeah, right. And I'm a flatulent unicorn). I've read somewhere that some lunatics possess incredible strength and speed. Perhaps this was what Corrine and I are dealing with. Combine the girl's already heightened physical attributes with whatever drug she was on and you've got a crazed Superman.

It was a theory that even I could shoot holes into, but what else have I got?

Surprisingly, Corrine saw the sense of my words and limped back to the cruiser, shaking me off angrily when I tried to help her. She remained quiet throughout her whole painful journey to our car and spoke only when we were strapped in.

"Charlie?" she asked softly. I've never heard her use that tone before and the only reason I didn't turn to face her was because I'm a firm believer on the whole 'keep your eyes on the road' thing.

"Yeah, Corrine?"

"Did she _really _drink the blood of those elks?"

She really should stop asking me questions I don't know the answer to. It just frustrates the both of us.

We were just passing through Forks High when I saw the crowd gathered out on the school's yard.

"Wonder what's happening?" Corrine mused, craning her neck to get a look-see. I slowed the cruiser down to see what was going on.

Two cars were locked in a deadly embrace in the parking lot. The flashing red lights of an ambulance looked strange when reflected in the ice, as if blood had been spilled and frozen on the cold ground.

My mind flashed back to the dead elk in the forest.

Then to Isabella. I recognized the one of the two cars as hers. Then, almost as if I conjured her by my thoughts, I saw a girl with a mop of dark brown hair being forced into a stretcher. All the air seemed to go out of my lungs. Isabella was hurt.

I rammed my foot on the accelerator and the cruiser roared across the road and into the parking lot.

"Jesus, Charlie, what's the matter?" Corrine yelled as we came to an abrupt halt and the seatbelt dug into her chest. I told myself to remember to breathe, gripped the steering wheel, hard to give me something to hold on to. I could see my knuckles turning white

"Isabella," I said through numb lips. "I think she's hurt."

Corrine swore and again at the top of her lungs, though I barely heard whatever she said. "Go, Chief," she urged me. "Isabella needs you right now."

I nodded but didn't move. This was where the line that cut my life in half began; whenever my family and personal life was concerned, I simply did not know what to do. In the police station, I was Chief Swan: a competent, dry-witted policeman. I knew how to handle a case so that everything was done quickly and efficiently, I knew how to handle nature enthusiasts like Travis or kids who were so pumped full of drugs that they could barely even remember their names, but I didn't know how to handle Isabella. Here, now, forced to cross that line between work and personal life, I was at sea, drowning in my own incompetence.

Somehow, I steeled my courage and got out of the car. "Call Reneé," I called to Corrine over my shoulder. It was probably nothing, I told myself. I didn't see any blood, after all, so it's not bad right?

_Severe internal hemorrhaging can occur almost without any physical signs. _A small voice said inside me. My heart rose in my throat to beat furiously against my Adam's apple. But that wouldn't happen to Isabella, right?

_Right? _

I arrived just in time to see Isabella resisting the EMTs who were trying to put her in a stretcher. She was wearing a neck brace and an expression that said she wanted the earth to open up and swallow her whole. In one, practiced gesture I scanned her body with my eyes, scouting for any injuries. When I found none, relief flooded through me and I was able to breathe again. The ache in my palms told me that I had been clenching my hand into tight fists the entire time.

"Bella!" I recovered my wits just long enough that I remembered that she liked to be called that instead of Isabella.

"I'm completely fine, Char—Dad," she stammered. "There's nothing wrong with me." And then she did a sad thing. She shied away from me as if I was an axe murderer.

"Are you all right?" I demanded, barely stamping down the urge to wrap her in my arms and order the EMTs to take her to the hospital covered in bubble wrap. While I stay behind and gut and quarter whoever _the hell _was carelessly driving that stupid van.

"She's fine, Charlie." A boy with red-blonde hair appeared beside me. He smiled disarmingly at me. "She did hit her head pretty hard, though."

"Get her to the ER," I ordered one of the EMTs. I turned back to the boy with every intention of asking squeezing every single detail of the accident out of him. I had now put a name to him: He was Edward Cullen, one of Carlisle's adopted children. A good, quiet kid.

I opened my mouth to start speaking, and then closed it again. There was something eerily familiar about him. His skin was so white; it made the snow around him look gray.

I swallowed, hard, imagining it sparkling like a disco ball when struck by sunlight.

"Is something wrong, Charlie?" Edward asked, looking concerned.

"We haven't been formally introduced," I said stiffly, holding out my hand for him to shake. "Charlie Swan."

He looked amused. "Edward Cullen." He reached out to shake my hand. He had good, firm grip.

One that was as hard as stone and as cold as ice.

**[1] Stoneskin, haha. Sorry, I couldn't resist sneaking in a Baldur's Gate reference. **

**Hell yes! I finished it! WOOHOO! *dances around* y'all should congratulate me for not taking a jab at Edward Cullen and calling him effeminate, as I'm sure Charlie would have. **

**Sorry this one's so short but I have to go ahead and study Econ now, see yah! **


	7. Clues

_Hey folks sorry it took so long to update. It's been a horrible few weeks for me, involving pulling an all-nighter for an exam that never came, a paper that had to be passed on the morning that our Christmas vacation started, a bipolar mother and a gigantic float depicting male genitalia._

_I wish I was joking about the last part. _

**Chapter 7**

**Clues**

After making sure that Isabella was all right, I reported back to Corrine who insisted that the ambulance get a police escort on the way to the hospital. When I asked her whether she wanted to have one of the EMTs take a look at her broken hand—which was still clenched in a fist.

My stomach couldn't help but clench painfully when I saw how pale my partner had become. It must have been really hurting her.

"You okay?" I asked her softly.

"No," Corrine answered through gritted teeth. "I want to find that Looney Toon and strangle her." At this, I couldn't resist taking a jab at her.

"You'd require _two _hands for that, you know. And right now you only have _one _functional hand."

"One's enough to break your nose, Charlie," Corrine grumbled as she got out of the car, slamming the door forcefully. I stifled a smile as I followed her to the ambulance.

The EMT clucked her tongue impatiently when she saw Corrine's injury. "Didn't you know enough to put ice on this?" she asked irritably, addressing me.

"Um…" Actually, I _did _know that you're supposed to put ice on a broken hand; if you're a cop you're supposed to have at least _some _knowledge at first aid, and knowing that I should have done better than I did was enough to make my stomach bubble with guilt.

"Sorry," I said in a small voice. Far from accepting my apology, my partner simply glared at the EMT and said, "Leave off him, it's not his fault we both panicked."

"How did you get this anyway?" the guy said as he wrapped an ice cube in a towel and proceeded to press it against her injured hand. Corrine turned a shade paler but didn't make a sound.

"Ran into a drug addict a while back," I answered for her, but even as I said it, I couldn't help but question my own statement.

Really? A drug addict? Really? Drug addicts don't have rock-hard skin. They don't sparkle in the sunlight and they definitely _do not _shrug off bullets.

Corrine just scowled her agreement…or disagreement, when she scrunches her face up like that, you never could tell.

"You'll have to take this to the ER to get X-rayed," the EMT said. "But take some Tylenol for the pain."

"Who's working at the ER?" I asked the guy.

"Dr. Cullen."

"Excellent," I said enthusiastically, and this time, I was saying this not only because I thought that both Corrine and Bella needed a top-notch doctor, but also because I had some very interesting questions regarding his son.

I left Corrine in one of the nurses capable hands (no pun intended) to accompany Isabella to get her head X-rayed. The whole time I was checking her eyes for signs of concussion, asking her how many fingers I was holding up, that kind of thing.

"I'm fine, Dad, really," she insisted.

"I'm going to kill Tyler Crowley," I muttered under my breath.

"Char—Dad, _no_." Isabella said, but of course, I barely heard her.

"I'm fine, Dad," Isabella continued. "Edward pushed me out of the way."

"Did he now…" I muttered.

"Yeah, Dad, he was standing right next to me," she explained, but by judging by the look on her face, she didn't believe what she was saying. Isabella had always been a horrible liar.

"And he just heroically pushed you out of the way?" I prompted. My daughter blushed and eyed her feet in a startlingly vulnerable gesture.

"Yeah…"

She entered the X-ray room, I waited a few minutes and until she came out again, looking upset. "I still have to talk to a doctor," Isabella grumped.

"It's for the best, honey," I insisted gently. She flinched at my words.

A nurse led us to one of the rooms and told us that Dr. Cullen would be with us soon.

We waited in uncomfortable silence. I was thinking about asking her about Edward Cullen, but then quashed down the urge savagely. My daughter was in a car accident today, I told myself sternly. Surely I could set aside my being a cop so that I could be a good father.

The silence got more awkward by the second.

It wasn't until Tyler Crowley burst into the room that either of us showed any signs of life. He was clearly much worse for wear than my daughter. He had several nasty-looking cuts on his face and despite my initial anger at him, I couldn't help but pity him; he was clearly upset about what he did.

Rightly so.

"Bella!" he cried. "Jesus, I'm sorry, I thought I was going to kill you!"

"If you did, you wouldn't have gotten out of the Forks High alive," I snarled at him. He blanched at my words and took a frightened step back.

"Dad!" Isabella scolded. She turned to Tyler. "You already apologized God-knows-how-many-times, it's _fine_."

"No it's not," I snapped, Tyler had the grace to look ashamed and mumbled remorseful apologies.

Isabella eyed me nervously, sending out painfully clear signals that she wanted me gone.

Too bad, kid, I'm staying.

The doors to our room swung open and Edward Cullen walked in. Almost unconsciously, I began scanning him for any tell-tale signs of drug abuse. Even though I found none, I still couldn't help but keep my guard up around him.

He exchanged small talk with Isabella and, before long, Dr. Cullen joined us.

I told myself I had prepared for this moment ever since I saw a resemblance between Edward and the crazy lady in the forest, I had the scenario planned in my head: Dr. Cullen would enter, do some tests on Isabella, he would reassure me that she's going to be fine and I would insist on talking to him in private.

Maybe he didn't know of his son's drug habit, maybe, once he found out, he would speak to Edward, get him professional help.

I had even pictured Dr. Cullen's face crumbling in grief as he realized the depths to which his son had sunk.

But all that mental preparation I did came crashing down around my ears the moment I realized that Dr. Cullen looked almost exactly like his son.

Both of them had the same pale skin; the exact same shade that the lady in the forest had.

But did pale skin really mean that they were using drugs? It could be anything; they could be family that's why there was such a resemblance.

"_Including the stone-hard skin?" _That cynical little voice inside me whispered.

"Well, what else could it be?" I muttered angrily. Dr. Cullen would never get involved in drugs, I'm sure of it.

But they must be related to the girl in the forest, that's why they look so alike.

Yes, that must be it.

And then I remembered that Edward was adopted.

I gritted my teeth in frustration; _it didn't make any damn sense!_

"Uh…Charlie?" Isabella's voice snapped me back to reality.

"Yeah, honey?" I asked absentmindedly. My daughter made a face at me that said 'Please don't call me 'honey''.

"The examination's over, Dr. Cullen said I could leave." Great, while I was too busy in Lala Land, a doctor who may or may not be tripping on acid just finished probing my daughter's skull for a possible fracture.

Way to be a Dad, Charlie.

"She was very lucky," the doctor supplied. "Considering what she's just been through, she's barely even scratched."

"My Isabella's a tough little bird," I bragged, I was about to say more but bit off whatever I was going to say when I saw that Isabella was inching toward the door.

"Are you tired, sweetheart?" I asked worriedly. "Should we go home now?"

Her head snapped in my direction, her brown eyes wide with surprise. "No! Um…can't I go back to school, Ch—Dad?"

Again, I looked to Dr. Cullen for an answer, then turned away, remembering my suspicions.

"Maybe you should take it easy for today," I suggested.

"Yeah, maybe you should, Bella," Tyler immediately jumped in. "Edward said you hit your head pretty hard."

_Because _you _were too stupid to even look where you were going._

Isabella glared at the two of us. "Fine," she grumped. "But I want to talk to Edward first." She jerked her chin toward Dr. Cullen's son, who had remained almost entirely silent the whole time.

He smirked at her in a way that made all the alarm bells in my head go wild. I cleared my throat.

"Okay, where should we—" I began but my daughter quickly interrupted me.

"_Alone_."

Even as I scowled at Edward, I could feel my face heating up. Why did she want to talk to him _alone_?

Oh God, he's not courting her, is he? I made a mental note to talk to Isabella about birds and bees when we got home.

"Why alone?" I demanded.

"Now, now, Charlie," Carlisle said soothingly. "I'm sure it's nothing, probably something about their biology class."

"Yeah, that's it," Edward said enthusiastically. "Our teacher gave an assignment on cell cycle and I've been having a hard time with it, Bella is offering to help me."

"Yeah, sure, but why alone?" I grunted.

Isabella just glared at me until I back down. "All right, all right. Fine, but make it quick." I said hastily. Carlisle nervously checked his watch.

"I'm sorry but I have to go," he apologized. "Tyler, you're going to have to come with me, some of those cuts need to be treated, you never should have left before the nurses were done with you. They're looking for you right now."

Irresponsible as well as unable to drive, huh, will you look at that. He had the grace to look sheepish as he followed Carlisle out.

"I'll wait outside, shall I?" I told Isabella and Edward and, without waiting for their consent left the room, even as my brain screamed at me not to. "Five minutes!" I warned them before closing the door.

Except that I didn't really close it, instead I left it open just the tiniest bit. Anyone looking at it would have thought that it really was closed.

_Eavesdropper! _My brain screamed at me. My insides squirmed with guilt at what I was doing. What, I couldn't even give my daughter some privacy? Now I had to listen in on her every conversation,

Better watch out Charlie or you'll be watching her in her sleep next.

I gritted my teeth as shame bubbled in the pit of my stomach.

"It's for her own good," I rationalized. "For all I know, that Edward kid might be threatening her."

It's not that I didn't trust my daughter, of course I trusted her.

It was _him _I didn't trust.

All I had to do was picture the Siren, as beautiful and deadly as a tigress, to remind myself why I was planning on eavesdropping on my daughter.

"What do you want?" Edward sounded annoyed, perhaps even angry when he spoke. I could feel my hands clenching into fists. _Don't you dare talk to her that way._

"You owe me an explanation,"

For what?

"I saved your life — I don't owe you anything."

This didn't sound like biology to me.

"You promised." Isabella sounded hurt and more than a little afraid. What did he promise?

_If that asshole so much as touches her…_

"Bella, you hit your head, you don't know what you're talking about."

"There's nothing wrong with my head."

"What do you want from me, Bella?"

"I want to know the truth," she said. "I want to know why I'm lying for you."

Wait, she _lied _for him? About what? What reason would she have to lie for Edward Cullen? Even more disturbing. _Why_would she have to lie for him?

"What do you think happened?" Edward demanded.

Isabella nearly tripped over her own tongue in her rush to get the words out.

"All I know is that you weren't anywhere near me — Tyler didn't see you, either, so don't tell me I hit my head too hard. That van was going to crush us both — and it didn't, and your hands left dents in the side of it — and you left a dent in the other car, and you're not hurt at all —and the van should have smashed my legs, but you were holding it up…"

_He held up a van?! _For the first time, I wondered whether Isabella really did hit her head hard enough to cause hallucinations. Oh, please God, no. Don't let anything be wrong with my daughter.

"You think I lifted a van off you?" Edward asked disbelievingly. But his voice sounded…off, somehow. Like an actor who memorized his lines but didn't have the finesse to pull it off onstage.

My daughter must have nodded because then Edward said, ""Nobody will believe that, you know." The boy said it in the same tone a horror-movie villain would say "Nobody will ever find your body, you know."

A chill ran down my spine.

Then, I thought back to Siren.

Could she have been strong enough to lift a van? I thought about how heavy she felt when she straddled me, how her skin felt as unyielding as concrete.

_Yes. _I thought, feeling lightheaded. _Yes. _

_Finished! I hope the next chapter won't take so long to write, since, after all, I don't have any classes to disturb me! :) Anyway, I'll probably pop in tomorrow to edit this, but right now. I just want to sleep, I hope you liked!  
_

_Happy holidays, folks! :)  
_


	8. Uninvited Guest (Edited)

_Currently writing this while nearly freezing to death on a boat that is currently on its way back to the apartment I share with my brother. Sorry it took so long, I've recently been wrestling with a monster-paper on public administration._

_You know how ink-and-paper monsters can be, demanding that you slay them with pens and iron-hard determination and stuff,__certainly I didn't spend all that time playing Ragnarok with my favorite cousin, nope._

_Playing Ragnarok? Let's be friends on Woonro, the name's Madrigal__. _

**Chapter 8**

**Uninvited Guest**

Isabella and I rode home, once again, in an uncomfortable silence. Though we didn't say anything, I'm pretty sure that we were both thinking about the same thing, yes, _thing _because now I can no longer be sure if he was human: Edward Cullen.

Surely she too had heard the subtle menace in his voice as he spoke to her in the quiet hospital room.

How could she not? I could almost feel the ice crystallizing in my veins whenever he spoke.

Or perhaps that was because I saw what his kind was capable of, that iron strength, the unbreakable skin.

Another thing, what was _his _kind?

Drug addicts? Genetic experiments? Aliens?

All right, I was joking about the last part.

I may not know what Edward Cullen's _kind _would be considered but I definitely know what he was: _dangerous._ It was only until we reached the house that I remembered that I had asked Corrine to call Reneé a few hours earlier. She must be in hysterics right now, I thought, feeling guilty. I shouldn't have put her through that kind stress, should've called right after I found out that Isabella was going to be all right.

I, of all people, knew how fragile she can be.

Because I'm a coward, I turned to Isabella for help, "Um…you'll need to call Reneé." I hung my head, feeling guiltier still.

Her face turned white with rage. "You told Mom!" she screamed at me.

"Sorry," I mumbled to my hands. She swung herself out of the cruiser and slammed the door on her way out.

I hung around in the hall as she made her call, wanting to know if there's anything I can do.

Isabella made soothing noises to her obviously-panicked mother, all the while glowering at me from across the room. When she had sufficiently calmed her mother, Isabella went up to her room without so much as a goodbye to me.

Must be the headache. Has to be.

I decided that I better stay at home in case Isabella needed me, but the whole afternoon she stayed locked in her bedroom and then vanished almost immediately after dinner with a hastily mumbled goodbye.

Well, so much for my fantasies of sitting next to my daughter's bed and taking her temperature and talking with her for a little while. I sighed.

Maybe I'll just watch TV tonight. I looked down and found my hands shaking.

I won't lie. The crazy lady in the forest. Isabella's accident. Edward Cullen. I was thoroughly shaken, I wanted, no, _needed _a drink. My mouth felt so dry.

No. Isabella. Think of Isabella. Who is sleeping upstairs and, at any moment, might come down and find her father drowning in drink.

That image, more than anything else, stamped out the desire for liquor.

I was startled out of my thoughts when the phone started ringing, its shrill noise piercing the silence of the night.

Thinking that it was Reneé calling to reassure herself that our daughter didn't trip on the way up the stairs on something, I picked up the phone cautiously.

"Hello?" I said and I was surprised at how hard I had to work to keep the emotion out of my voice. When was the last time I talked to Reneé? I mean, _really_talked to her? Not just arguments about child support or commenting on how the weather is exceptionally good that day (hint: in Forks, the weather is almost never good, never mind _exceptionally _good).

"Charlie?" a male voice asked tentatively.

"Oh!" It wasn't Reneé at all, it was Billy Black, my long-time friend who lived in La Push. I briefly wondered why he was calling. We hadn't spoken to each other since he sold me Isabella's pick-up truck.

"You sound surprised," he said, his tone amused. "Expecting someone else?" He made sloppy kissing noises over the phone.

"Get to the point, Billy," I growled, but I was smiling. All it took was Billy's presence to make me smile; his voice alone evoked images of rare days of sunshine and fishing by the river. We didn't

"I heard about Isabella." Billy's tone was grave. "Is she all right?"

"Yes, she's fine, thank God." I felt a powerful surge of emotion at my words, because I don't know what I would have done if Isabella was hurt in that accident.

"I'm glad." Sincerity radiated in Billy's voice. I saw it as an opening to slide a remark in edgewise.

"Me too. She said that Edward pulled her out of the way."

"Edward?"

"Cullen. You know, Dr. Cullen's youngest?"

"Oh yes. Him." Billy's abrupt tone told me that he wanted to say something else but restrained himself from saying it.

"Is there something I should know, Billy?" I asked quietly. "About Edward Cullen?"

Billy didn't answer for several long moments, I could hear his breathing so I knew that he hadn't hung up on me.

"Edward Cullen is…not good for your daughter, Charlie," Billy hedged.

"Not good? Not good how, Billy?" I insisted.

"Just…not good, let's leave it at that." If there was anything that Billy could have said that would have made me 'leave it at that' it was not those words. Whenever it was just the two of us, Billy was usually so very open. This kind of evasion only served to pique my interest.

"Just spit it out, Billy," I said bluntly.

"I, I can't really say, Charlie." Billy's voice was unnaturally nervous. I remembered that tone of voice before, and I hated it. On rare moments when our conversation would turn to the 'The Quilete Tribe' as I jokingly referred to them. It was the only time that Billy was actually dodgy about anything.

"Why not?" I said angrily. "Billy if there is something I ought to know about Edward Cullen, especially since he saved my daughter…"

"I thought you _liked _the Cullens," Billy said bitterly. "Now you want me to dish the dirt on them?"

I paused. We had had this argument many times before, when I thought the Quiletes were superstitious fools who bullied the then-new Cullens. I remembered being so angry about how they had boycotted the hospital when Carlisle Cullen started working there.

Could there be some truth to their superstitions?

I made myself swallow my pride and murmured, "Billy, _please_, as a friend, if there's anything about Edward Cullen that could put my daughter in danger…"

Something creaked upstairs. I stopped talking and stared at the ceiling, frowning. I knew that Isabella had gone to bed early.

Had she rolled out of bed in pain and fell on the floor? With her, it wasn't entirely inconceivable.

"Charlie?" my friend's voice sounded strained.

"Nothing," I said into the phone. "I just thought I heard something…"

_Creak. _

My head whipped up so I could stare at the ceiling again.

_Creakcreakcreakcreakcreak._

I raised my voice. "Bella, honey? Is everything all right?"

She didn't answer. But the creaking stopped as well. Was it because she didn't want to bother me?

"I'll…talk to you later, Billy."

"_Charlie_." Billy's voice was urgent, but my daughter's needs were probably even more so. I put down the phone and walked upstairs, taking care to walk on the sides so that the stairs wouldn't creak.

"Isabella? Sweetie?" I asked softly.

Not wanting to wake her in case she was sleeping, I opened the door and came across, what was and will continue to be, the most terrifying sight in my life.

Pale, tall and still as a statue, Slenderman Edward Cullen loomed above my daughter's bed like a monster in some dark fairy tale. The curtains of the only window in her room fluttered silently in the breeze. The window itself was wide open, indicating how Edward had gotten inside her room.

My heart beat a frantic tattoo against my chest and my knees nearly gave way at this sight, at the portrait of this monster so near my daughter. In that moment, Edward Cullen was every flash of lightning, every reckless driver on the street, every sleazy man skulking in a dark alley, everything that every parent feared would harm their child.

He was the Boogeyman come to take her away, the fairies who would spirit her to their secret kingdom, where I would never see her again. He was what everything I feared and hated, personified.

Anger flooded through me, making my blood run hot. Right then, I didn't care what he was, monster or alien or drug addict, _no one _threatened my daughter. I wanted to rush at him, break him with my bare hands, gouge out his eyes so he could no longer gaze at her.

But I was robbed of the opportunity when he tore his gaze away from Isabella's sleeping form to look at me, standing in the doorway, the need for murder probably shining in my eyes.

His expression changed from sullen to horrified in under a second, those strange yellow eyes widening at the sight of me.

I took a step forward, fully intent on dragging him downstairs and microwaving in his head until it exploded **[1]. **But in the next breath, he was gone.

Edward Cullen was gone.

I blinked and took a step back. Had I imagined the whole thing? Was I going mad?

"Edward?" I heard my daughter say in a very small voice. I strode over to her bed, her eyes were open but it was clear that she was still drowsy. So she _had _seen him too, I was not going mad after all. A tight knot in my chest loosened somewhat. Only somewhat. If he could move that fast then…what _was _he?

He was there in one second and gone the next.

I smoothed her hair back and kissed her forehead. Not tonight, sweetie, he won't bother you tonight or any other night. I don't care what he is, all I knew was that he was not going to lay his filthy hands on my daughter.

"Edward?" she asked again.

"Sshh…" I murmured. To my surprise, she went back to sleep.

She'll probably think it was all just a dream.

But I _knew _it wasn't.

I spent the rest of the night outside her door, shotgun in hand, just in case he came back.

**[1] reference to Last House on the Left, as I recall, the Daddy in the story was also crazy about his daughter :3 But I bet if Charlie had a favorite movie it won't be Last House on the Left. It would be…*drum roll* No Country for Old Men! :D Because it is so totally Charlie. **

_You could almost hear Edward thinking "There's been a disturbance in the force!" when he saw Charlie in the doorway. Speaking of Edward, I've been thinking on doing a story on him, with the story's first words being: __**"My name is Edward Cullen and this is not, nor will it ever be, a love story." **__*shrugs* But I'll probably finish Charlie first. _

_**EDIT: This story will be on TEMPORARY hiatus until February 11, 2013. Somewhere around that week, I'll probably post the next chapter. Thank you for bearing with me. **  
_


	9. Cold

**Heyah peepz! Sorry this took so long to update, I've been extremely busy studying (can also be read as: playing Ragnarok). Thank you for being so patient with me. I'll try to update regularly from now on (can also be read as: every week) If I happen not to update within a particular week, feel free to PM me or review this and cuss the hell out of me (okay, maybe not **_**that **_**much cussing)**

**Only two pages on Word because I want to finish this tonight, and I figured you guys waited long enough. Split into two parts. I swear I'll make it longer next time. I shall also try and come in and edit my mistakes in the weekend. You guys deserve better than ungrammatical stuff.**

**Chapter 8**

**Cold**

I did not get much sleep that night, on account of the fact that the wooden chair I was sitting on dug into my ass. There was also the fact that the cold steel of the shotgun kept reminding me of the reason why I was posted outside Isabella's room.

Edward Cullen.

His name was now like a plague in my mind, in my mind's eye, I could still see him hovering over my daughter, staring at her intensely with those dark eyes. I could feel myself dozing off, wanting, _needing _to sleep.

God should cut me a break, I thought wearily, rubbing my aching shoulders. I battled a crazy woman in the forest today, went to the local high school and found out that my daughter had nearly been flattened by a van, made my ex-wife go into hysterics, and now came home to find my daughter being watched by the world's creepiest Peeping Tom.

Some days, a guy just can't catch a break.

I was sure that Edward Cullen is somehow connected to the death of the elks but I wasn't sure _how._ With the way the redhead had said about how she 'drank the elks' blood' I can say that it's probably some weird cult ritual. But how did that explain their strength? Their speed? The way they just took on bullets without so much as flinching?

Wearily, I rubbed my face with my hands, trying to will myself to stay awake, but I was exhausted.

Times like this made me wish that I had an ally, not just trouble-hungry Corrine. Someone I could talk to without being made to feel like an absolute lunatic.

Why even lie?

I needed Billy.

I couldn't help but flinch at the way the squeaks of Billy's wheelchair filled the room, both because it reminded me of Billy's loss of mobility and my sudden loss of speech.

What happened?

Before the Cullens, we had always filled his tiny kitchen with laughter and jokes or grim discussions about my latest case. But now, after the recent strain in our friendship, the room was silent, except for the endless squeaking and Billy's occasional grunt.

I still can't believe it took me over a month to gather enough courage to visit Billy and to ask him about Edward Cullen. Billy was the one I had come running to when Renesmeé had left me and taken Isabella with her, so why was it so hard for me to ask something that might help protect my daughter?

Well, I knew the answer to that, didn't I? It was because it involved saying sorry and admitting that I was wrong.

I watched as Billy took out two ice-cold beers from the fridge and I was suddenly aware of how thirsty I was. But then I remembered the Siren, giggling coquettishly at me as she beckoned me downstairs, mocking my attempts to get close to Isabella. Another image came, also unbidden, the image of the lady in the forest, the one who looked so strikingly close to the Siren. Just another mystery for Charlie Swan's poor brain.

I shook my head sluggishly. "Just water for me, Billy, thanks," I said hoarsely.

Billy raised an eyebrow at me. "You on duty today, Chief Swan?" he asked, just a hint of teasing entering his voice.

"I sort of gave up being so damn wasted all the time," I muttered. When he still looked confused, I added, "For Isabella."

Billy relaxed, but still brought over the bottles. "One beer wouldn't hurt," he insisted.

"Better not to tempt me," I admitted shamefacedly. My friend said nothing but brought out pitcher of water for me to show that he understood.

"Thanks," I said gratefully.

"You're not here for the water," Billy said flatly. "You called me a month ago, asking about Edward Cullen. I assume this is about him."

"Yes," I hesitated. Not wanting to be overheard, I asked, "Is Jacob home?"

"No, he went to the beach with Isabella and a few of their friends." **[1]**

Oh, right, I knew that.

"Edward Cullen," Billy prompted.

Several embarrassed minutes later, I mumbled, "I caught him watching my daughter sleep."

"WHAT?!" It was a good thing that Jacob was not around, his father really had a set of lungs on him. Billy's normally chestnut brown complexion went ashen and his hands clenched into fists so tightly, his knuckles turned white.

"I waited outside with a shotgun the whole night," I said defensively.

"No, no," Billy moaned. "This is wrong, so terribly wrong."

"What?" I asked hurriedly. "What's wrong, Billy, tell me! For Isabella, _please_!" But it was obvious that he was no longer listening to me.

"He should obey the treaty!" my friend burst out vehemently. "I'll rip him in pieces if he doesn't! Sam will!"

Sam Uley was a kid from La Push who, as I understood, was one of the boys who first boycotted the hospital when the Cullens moved in. I didn't see how he fit in to all this.

"No, Charlie, go. Please," Billy begged. "I have to make in a few calls. Try to see if the treaty's still intact."

"_What treaty?_" I found myself yelling. "_Billy if you put my daughter in danger…!_"

"I'm trying to save your daughter!" my friend cried. "Please, I'll call you in the morning, once I've consulted with Sam and talked with the Cold—I mean the Cullens,"

But I didn't move, "You said something about 'cold'," I pursued relentlessly. "Does that have anything to do with the way their skin feels, the way they're so cold all the time? Billy, you're my friend, please tell me."

But my friend was already rolling past me, already searching for a telephone, already far, far away from me and from my daughter who was in, what I assumed to be, in very grave danger.

**[1] I'm trying to set the story parallel to Bella's if you check the book, this was around the time that Bella was trying to get the story of the Cullens out of Jacob by flirting with him. Should you want/need or do not want/need to see reminders of what was happening in the novel somewhere around this time, feel free to suggest in PM or review.**

**My hiatus has officially ended.**** I shall try to update every week. Should I fail to deliver one update per week and you want me to, again, feel free to PM or review and I will try to put on up ASAP. Thank you for waiting for this chapter. You're the best. Yes, you who is currently reading this. You're awesome. **


	10. Sweet Songs

**Sorrysorrysorrysorrysorrysor rysorrysorrysorrysorrysorrys orrysorrysorrysorrysorry!**

**I'm been busier than I could believe. **

**Chapter 9**

**Sweet Songs**

The night saw me restless and unable to sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I kept seeing Isabella's face, pale and frightened, her features twisted in fear at some unknown monster I could not see.

Once again, I saw Edward Cullen, looming over my daughter's sleeping form, gazing at her with a terrible sort of hunger.

Suddenly, I am no longer seeing Isabella in my mind's eye, her face ages, morphs into Reneé's. Instead of fear, rage shows on her face, and it is no longer Edward Cullen that she is looking at.

It's me.

Suddenly I was back in that terrible, terrible night when Reneé left me. Tears were streaking down her face and I was helpless to stop them. I could not even find the strength to embrace her, whisper words of comfort in her ears, the way I used to do back before everything went wrong.

My arms felt leaden at my sides.

She was saying something. "I don't want to end up trapped in this stupid, boring town!" She was obviously trying hard to keep her voice from cracking.

You know how in those romantic chick flick movies, someone pulls a line like this and suddenly, you found the film unbearably cheesy?

Do you remember how you laughed at your friends for hastily trying to wipe away the tears that were building up in their eyes?

I do.

But when Reneé said it, it was as if she had taken a sledgehammer to my heart, my life. She had meant so much more than just not wanting to be trapped in a stupid, boring town.

She didn't want to be trapped with _me. _

Forks was…is so much more to me than just a rainy town. I am its Chief, the people in Forks were _my _charge.

Reneé knew that, and accepted it. It was just that she didn't want Forks to be her charge as well.

In my mind's eye, I saw my wife turning her back on me forever, eager to be away from Forks, away from me.

My eyes snapped open and I found myself sitting up on my bed, with my heart beating dully in my chest. Beads of sweat coated my face and my shirt was soaking wet.

It looks like sleep was not going to be an option for me tonight. I stood up with every intention to go to the bathroom and wash my face, only to sit back down once I realized that I was shaking.

I held my hand up for inspection and watched in astonishment at the way my fingers shook uncontrollably. I quickly clenched it into a fist, not wanting to see it anymore.

_I need a drink, _I decided.

An opened bottle of beer was already in my hand before I realized what I was doing. _Isabella, you idiot, Isabella, _an annoying, whiny voice spoke in my head. _Think of her. _

But every time I tried to conjure Isabella's face in my mind, all I saw was Reneé's. That definitely did not make it easier.

"Just this once," I found myself muttering to some unseen judge. "Please, just this once. I need it." _Need _being the keyword here. Still, the fact that Isabella was sleeping upstairs deterred me from drowning myself in drink.

Once I took a swig, however, the taste of the liquor felt like an old friend, welcoming me back into oblivion.

I don't know how many bottles I went through, or even if I went through them at all. All I know was that I somehow ended up drunk and lying on the couch.

My head was pounding dully and my breathing was coming in shallow gasps.

"Well, well," I heard someone say. "What have we here…drowning in drink again?"

I suddenly shot up from the couch, expecting Isabella looming over me with a hurt, puppy-dog expression on her face.

But the house was as dark and lonely as it had ever been.

So where did the voice come from?

I swallowed, feeling the bitter aftertaste of beer cloying against my tongue.

"Who's there?" I tried to say, but it came out more as "Whozer?"

No one answered.

Fear made my stomach clench painfully. I knew that voice. It wasn't Edward Cullen's, certainly it wasn't Isabella's.

It was the Siren's.

**My goal is to turn Charlie from wuss to badass by the end of this. **


	11. Allure

** bobblestheninja: **What a lovely thing to say, your review made my day as well

**You guys are lovely for giving me such kind reviews, I simply can't explain how happy you people make me.**

* * *

**Chapter 10**

**Allure**

Fear rooted me in my place as I remembered the Siren's beauty, her grace, her deadly speed.

Was she here?

_In my home? _

Despite the fact that my tongue felt thick and heavy in my mouth, I still managed to call out.

"Where are you?" I called, feeling stupid for talking to thin air. I could hear a woman giggling at my words, though I could not make out where the sound was coming from.

"Do you really think I am going to tell you?" the Siren's voice asked. Goosebumps erupted along my arms when I realized that her voice was coming from inside the house.

_She was in the house with me._

_With Isabella._

Instantly, my mind flashed back to all the possible entrances in our houses: the doors are all locked, as well as the windows; I heard no sound of breaking glass or the sound of a door being forced open. So how did she get in? Did she have key?

Alcohol made my thoughts sluggish and, not for the first time, I cursed myself for this weakness.

"Why are you here?" I asked. I felt my belt for my gun, seeking the comfort of the familiar feel of the metal underneath my fingers. My hand groped thin air.

I could've slapped myself. A rational part of my brain chided me, _of course _I was going to remove it, I didn't expect to be invaded in my own _home. _

But another part of my brain raged at my incompetence. An intruder was in our house and there I was, inebriated and unarmed. My only chance was to keep her attention focused on me and off Isabella, who was sleeping peacefully upstairs.

"Why do you think I'm here?" the Siren shot back.

"'Cause you're one fucked-up bitch?" The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them.

Reneé would have washed my mouth out with soap had she heard me say those things.

The Siren laughed. "Naughty, naughty, such a mouth," she teased.

"Get out," I ordered. "Get out and never come back."

That laugh again, I felt the hairs at the back of my neck stand on end. It made my blood run hot and cold at the same time. Her voice, her hair…everything about her radiated sex and danger. If ever there was a predator that was a perfect mix of allure and menace, she was it.

"But don't you want to know more about me?" I could almost hear the pout that surely came with that sentence.

"Isn't that something you ought to be asking your first date?" I snapped back.

She laughed once more, goddamn, I'm really starting to hate that laugh. "And what do you think this is?" she asked, her voice seductively low.

I felt a flash of heat in my cheeks and I knew I was blushing. I thought Reneé was the only one who could make me blush. The alcohol** [1]** must be really getting to me.

I had to fight hard to think of Isabella, because all that swam in my head were images of the Siren.

"A home invasion," I said bluntly. "Get out."

"Don't you even want to know my name?"

"No," I lied. "Get out or I get my gun." _As if that's going to be much use._

"It's Victoria," she said her name as if it was an offering: of peace, as a sacrifice, I didn't know.

"Well then, Victoria." I couldn't deny how sweet her name tasted against my tongue. "Kindly leave my home before I fill you with more holes than a block of Swiss Cheese."

"Would you really do that?" she asked in a genuinely hurt tone. "And here I thought you wanted to know more about me…about _us_."

"Us?"

"The Cullens."

It was as if I'd been electrified.

"So you really _are _with the Cullens?" I yelled, not bothering to keep quiet now. "What are you freaks up to? Drugs? Experiments? Tell me!"

Victoria burst into a peal of insane laughter, a total out-of-control laugh that even the truly insane had to work on for years to perfect.

"_Drugs_?" she screeched. "You think this is about _drugs_? Oh, you humans are even slower than I thought."

That was when she stepped out of the darkness. She looked more like an angel than the devil she was, clad all in white and her orange hair as wild as a forest fire. The shirt she was wearing clung tightly to her every curve and her breasts seemed to be straining to burst free of her bra.

I felt a stirring in my pants and I couldn't help but feel ashamed at the flash of desire that ran through me like lightning.

"You talk as if _you're _not human," I muttered all the while thinking '_She's crazy.'_

"I'm not," she said easily, taking a seat at my couch.

_Yep. Crazy. Been locked up in an asylum for the last twenty years._

"Then what are you, a zombie? Should I watch my neck now?" I snapped. "And you didn't heed my former request: **get out.**" I put as much force into the last two words as I could. But it was really hard to seem threatening when I was struggling to put two thoughts together.

_Billy said she was cold. _

_They're strong. _

_Fast._

_Invulnerable. _

_Cold, cold, cold, cold. _

That was when I realized that Victoria was gripping my arm tightly.

"Do sit down, dear, you're making me tired just to look at you," she purred. One perfectly-manicured hand patted the space beside her.

"I'll stand thanks."

"Suit yourself," she pouted, her teeth just ever-so-slightly biting her lush bottom lip.

"Why are you here?" I asked, feeling both wearied and aroused at the action.

"Do I need a reason?" Victoria murmured, her hand reaching up to grasp mine. I whipped it out of her grasp before she could even touch it.

_Jesus. _

"You're interesting," she tilted her head, studying me as if I was some curious insect pinned to a board. "Very interesting." She licked her lips.

"I'm sure the judge will find you interesting as well," I answered with mock politeness. "Get out."

Victoria didn't move and inch. She just stared at me with dark, hungry eyes.

"We're vampires, if that's what you're asking," she said suddenly. "And the Blacks know. You'd do well to ask them."

I could have laughed. I certainly wasn't expecting that. Vampires of all the things!

"Because I suppose the Blacks are werewolves, huh?" I sneered. Victoria smiled at me.

"Well, yes," she replied sweetly.

"And why, may I ask, are you telling me all this?"

That was when Victoria stood up, standing so close to me that I could almost feel the cold radiating off her.

_Cold. _

"Because," she whispered, her breath against my lips. "You'll soon be joining us."

Then she was gone.

"WAIT!" I yelled into the empty house. "WAIT!"

But Victoria didn't reply.

* * *

**[1] Yeah, sure Charlie. Blame the alcohol. **

**Victoria is sexy as hell. Not even Charlie can deny that. **


	12. Sam

**Hello wonderful readers! To anyone who checked my profile (not many I'm sure) I went on an unexpected hiatus because the final month of my semester was particularly horrible, but I'm back now, so expect more updates!**

**Beautiful Abyss: Team Charlie, of course! ;) **

**SmilingReader: Wow, you are totally RIGHT! Put that way, Charlie NEEDS his own television show. BRB sending letter to TV-show-companies**

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**Chapter 11**

**Sam**

When I woke up the next day, I felt like I'd been hit by a truck, a stampeding rhinoceros and a heavyweight boxing champion all in one. A headache was already spiking its way across my forehead.

"God," I groaned. "How much did I drink last night?"

Then I remembered: _Isabella. _I rolled out of the couch, my world turning into a dizzying whirlwind of colors as I fell to the floor with a thump.

"What time is it…" I was appalled at how slurred my words came out. Damn it. I managed to get off the floor but my world was still spinning as I stood up. I could still taste stale beer on my tongue and my stomach churned at the taste of it.

Did I just imagine the Siren's—no, _Victoria's_—visit last night? My stomach clenched painfully at the thought, was I going mad?

I shook my head to get those horrible thoughts out of it. Damn it, of course I wasn't going mad, I told myself sternly.

_Of course I wasn't. _

But if I wasn't going mad…then there were only two possible explanations, either Victoria was lying or…she was telling the truth.

I could still picture her lush lips moving as she murmured the words "We're vampires, if that's what you're asking." A harsh laugh escaped my lips; vampires? Really? Do they burn in the sun when they step into it? Do they burst into flames? I strained my memory, trying to think of my first encounter with Victoria in the forest. How did she look when the sunlight first hit her?

I remembered how she seemed to glisten in the weak light of the sun, how my first thought was how she looked like she had diamonds embedded in her skin.

I could feel a smirk play on my lips. Was that the mark of a vampire then? _Glistening? _I could probably achieve the same thing with a stick of glue and some glitter.

But my mood soon darkened as I contemplated Victoria's words.

"We're vampires, if that's what you're asking."

Then I sucked in my breath as I remembered her next words, ""And the Blacks know. You'd do well to ask them."

This was the only thing that she said that kept me from dismissing her as a complete lunatic. The _Blacks_? She'd dare involve the Blacks in this? If there was something that those lunatics were planning on involving Billy and Jake into this mess…

I swore loudly, then nervously checked the room in case Isabella was nearby. She wasn't. She must've gone to school.

Guess it was time for me to go to work.

The door of Billy Black's house rattled as I pound my fist against it, over and over again. "I know you're in there, Billy, let me in!" I hollered. I tried to ignore the sharp bite of today's weather but it was obvious that my temper was already taking a few hits because of the cold.

I counted to thirty before I started banging on the door again.

"Dammit, Billy, I need to talk to you, open this door _now_ or I'll break the door down!"

I heard the faint sound of Billy's wheelchair creaking as they made their way across the house. Billy's voice, normally strong and reassuring, sounded strained as he hollered back, "All right, all right, I'm coming."

Someone else was speaking, "I'll get it for you, Billy." The voice was a rich baritone and oddly familiar.

A thump.

"I may be in a wheelchair but I'm not an invalid!" Billy huffed, sounding irritated. I stifled a smile.

The door creaked as my friend opened it, I was about to greet Billy with a joke when I saw his expression; his normally open face was crinkled with worry and his eyebrows met at the middle of his forehead to form a black 'V' on his face, his mouth was set in a frown that did not suit him at all. He looked so comically un-Billy that it would have been funny if I wasn't worrying about Victoria.

"What is it, Charlie?" he asked brusquely. For some reason, this annoyed me.

"Is that how you treat your friends, now," I snapped at him. Billy flinched and opened his mouth to say something, when I heard someone speak, "Billy is in a meeting with me right now," The voice spoke as if the owner was someone who was used to being obeyed and brooked no argument once he gave his final word.

I only knew one person who spoke like that.

I raised my head so I could look at Sam Uley right in the eye.

"Hello, Sam," I said coldly.

"Charlie."

I knew about this kid. As much as I hated to listen to gossip, _everyone _in Forks knew what he did to Leah Clearwater and a high school drop-out to boot. The way he and his _gang _just seemed to lurk around La Push, glaring at every outsider that set foot on La Push soils as if _they _owned the place.

I also remembered, with no small amount of bitterness, how they boycotted the hospital once they found out that doctor Cullen was working in it.

A sliver of doubt entered my mind. Were they right?

"Billy is busy," Sam said in that slow, forceful way of his. No matter how young Sam was, opposing him felt like trying to go against a raging current.

"Then I guess we'll be busy together," I countered. "Billy, we need to talk." I gave him a meaningful look. "About what we talked about last time."

Billy blanched at my words; an action that said more than words ever could. He threw a nervous glance at Sam who placed a hand on my friend's shoulder, as if he meant to restrain him.

"And what were you talking about last time?" Sam asked.

I didn't like the way he spoke to me or Billy, as if _he _was the elder and we were the wayward children. I lifted my chin up and looked at Sam Uley straight in the eyes, trying not to dissolve at the amount of authority and _arrogance _I found in those dark eyes.

"Vampires."

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**Constructive criticism is always welcome 3 Hey, do you think this fic needs more Edward and Bella?**


	13. Truth and Transformation

**WHOOPS. Meant to update this sooner, sorry, time flies by so fast when you're watching Game of Thrones. Damn, did anyone see the latest one, Jaime just gave me chills! Anyway, I'll drop by to edit this tomorrow, it's late now and I need sleep. I hope you enjoy!**

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**Chapter 12**

**Truth and Transformation**

Sam's reaction was exactly what I expected it to be: he threw his head back and let out a great bark of a laugh.

"Vampires?" he said, the hitch in his voice suggesting that another laugh was just around the corner. The smirk he was wearing just wanted to make me punch his face. So instead of looking at Sam and increasing the likelihood of committing a murder, I looked at Billy, who was staring straight ahead.

"Do you think I've gone crazy?" I asked him bluntly. "Or did you forget about that our scheduled marathon of _Underworld_?"

My friend's lips twitched, as if he wanted to smile, but instead of bantering with me, he said, "Are you feeling all right, Charlie?" His voice was flat, monotone, an actor reading the lines of a character he can't relate to.

"Yes, I'm feeling all right," I said, pushing away my irritation. "I want to talk about vampires. What you call the Cold Ones."

Billy flinched not because of my words, I realized, but because Sam's grip on the older Black's shoulder had become painfully tight. I could see Sam's fingers digging into Billy's flesh.

"Get your hand off him," I snapped, forcing away Sam's hand from Billy's shoulder. I was surprised when I managed to peel Sam's hand off Billy with little resistance.

At first, I thought that Sam had finally learned some manners but when I raised my eyes to look at Sam, I saw that that was not the case.

His face was frozen was shock. "Billy," he whispered through bloodless lips."You…told him—you told Charlie about the Cold Ones?"

"So there are 'Cold Ones'—they exist?" I blurted out. "Are they related to the Cullens?"

The Uley kid gave a rattling gasp and made a quick jerky motion with his that _might _have been an indication for us to continue the conversation inside or a sign of an incoming seizure.

When they started to move inside, I followed them in, fearing that they will shut the door in my face if I didn't.

The squeaking and creaking of Billy's wheelchair echoed eerily throughout the silent house; the hair at the back of my neck stood on end at the sound.

"Is Jacob home?" I asked, more to break the silence than anything.

"No," Billy answered. "He's out with his friends. He ought to be back sometime this afternoon."

As he spoke, a stab of guilt went through me; how readily could I have answered if someone asked me the same question about Isabella?

Billy's wheelchair stopped creaking, the sounds of Sam's footsteps had stopped, I shook myself out of my reverie to find that they are staring at me.

I realized that they were waiting for me to start the conversation.

"So," I said, adding an edge to my voice, the kind that I would use when I am in the station: the kind that makes me sound like I'm used to being in charge. "The Cold Ones." I tried to sound like it was just another day in the office and I was just asking a rookie to give a report. But the fact that I skipped work to come here hung heavy in my mind and my voice didn't have as much power as I wanted it to.

Sam stared at me with those dark eyes and I couldn't deny the authority in them.

Here was a man—no, a _boy_—who was used to being obeyed.

"Billy told you about the Cold Ones." It wasn't a question.

"No, he didn't."

"Then how do you know about them?"

Billy groaned. "I didn't—"

"_Silence._" There was a bite in Sam's voice that I never once heard in my own. My old friend heard it too, because he glared at Sam hatefully.

"You don't command me," he growled.

"I do."

"You should learn to respect your elder's kid!" I snapped at him.

It would have been nice if Uley had shown agitation at Billy's response, but his voice was calm and his face betrayed nothing. "You wanted to ask about the Cold Ones."

I pushed aside my growing anger and strove to make my voice as calm as his. Judging by the way it shook, it seems like I failed miserably. "The Cullens…are they the Cold Ones?"

"Billy told you that."

"No one told me that. I said it before. Are you deaf or stupid?"

I didn't know which was more amusing: the irritated expression that flashed through Sam's face or Billy obviously trying to hide a smirk.

I realized something: in my house, with Isabella, I was a drunken mess. I didn't know what to do with myself other than to drink myself into an early grave.

But here? Locking horns with Uppity Uley? Looking for elks drained of their blood? Here, I felt powerful, in control.

What did that say about me as a father?

"Then how did you know about the Cold Ones?" Sam asked.

"I saw one," I asked, watching for their reactions."She confessed to draining several elks of blood. And drinking it. She attacked us."

I wasn't disappointed.

"WHAT!" Sam exploded, his fists thundering down on the table. I flinched, thinking that I could hear the sound of the table cracking under Sam's force.

Billy's reaction was even more disconcerting; he tried to get up from his wheelchair, as if he'd forgotten that he was wheelchair bound. He fell back in his chair with a curse.

"Who?" Sam demanded. "Which of the leeches was it?! Part of our agreement was that no humans were to be touched! Which of those leeches did it!?"

"Which of those whats?" I asked, confused.

"Cullens," Billy elaborated for me.

"Leeches?" I asked.

My old friend coughed, "Vampires," he said out of the corner of his mouth.

"Well, why didn't you say so?" I asked.

"Who attacked you?" Sam persisted. "Tell me and I'll kill them."

"Hold on, I can't let you kill someone!" I yelled. Sam let out a roar of frustration.

"Don't you get it!" he yelled. "They're not human, they're monsters! Leeches!"

"SAM!" Billy's voice was a lot more powerful than our much younger companion and I could have sworn that the authority in his voice made the air inside the kitchen several times denser than normal.

"Control yourself." Now it seemed that the roles have been reversed, Billy was the one who gave the orders and Sam was the one who followed them.

I could see the muscles in Sam's powerful throat work as he struggled to swallow his agitation.

"Charlie," Billy continued. "Who did you see? Was it Alice? Rosalie? Esmé?"

"Now you're naming the things?" Sam said sullenly.

Billy sighed deeply and rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "I don't think that it was any of the Cullens," I began. "She was…different. Her name was Victoria."

How else could I describe Victoria? How can I describe her allure or her silken voice or…or the way she seemed to appear the night before I actually met her?

I decided not to say anything and let the other two muddle through the information I've given.

"There's a…hunter in Forks?" Billy murmured softly.

"What're you talking about? It's not hunting season…" I paled as I

But Sam was shaking his head, not in as if he wasn't acknowledging my words but as if he was a dog that had water clogged in its ears and he wished to clear it.

"I think that…" he looked uncertainly at Billy, "Charlie should discuss this with the pack."

"What are you asking me for?" my friend asked, and he couldn't have sounded more smug. "I am an old man Sam Uley, I no longer lead the pack."

Sam sighed deeply. "There is no time for this…"

"You're right, better contact the others Sam," the 'old man' exclaimed cheerfully.

I made a gesture towards my pants pocket. "I have a…phone, if you need it."

Sam let out another one of his bark-like laughs. "Our method of communication is much easier," he said. "Plus I think you need to see this."

After receiving a confirming nod from Billy, Sam took a step back from us. For a moment, I thought that he was going to pull out a phone or something but of course, I shouldn't have expected something so mundane.

Was it just me or was Sam growing larger?

I took a horrified step backward as the Uley kid's bones cracked and how his skin seemed to stretch over muscles too big for his body.

"Billy!" I yelled. "Billy, get an ambulance, Sam…he's—"

_Changing. _Sam was changing: fur sprouted from his skin, his arms elongated, his muscles seemed to be grow more solid. Sam dropped on all fours, ripping off his clothes as he did so.

Claws sprouted from his fingers and his face turned into a cruel muzzle.

"SHIT!" I yelled. "SHIT!"

"Charlie!" Billy laughed. "Calm down!"

"Why the hell are you laughing?!"

The cold eyes of a wolf stared at me where Sam's eyes should have been. In the kid's place was a giant, black wolf.

"That…wolf…is that Sam?" I asked Charlie. My heart was thudding quite loudly in my chest, loud enough and hard enough that I thought it was going to burst out of my chest.

But if that thing really is Sam, then I couldn't afford to show any sort of fear.

Or at least, my pride couldn't.

"So when you mean pack…you mean as in a _pack of wolves?_"

Billy was nodding, smiling. "Yes," he said, his eyes shining. "Oh yes."

* * *

**For a moment there, the testosterone level is TOO DAMN HIGH. Sam and Charlie and Billy just snapping at each other lol. **


End file.
